


What's in a Name?

by Johns_Farthings



Series: Studies in Domesticity [3]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Arabella and Segundus are good friends, F/F, Light Angst, M/M, Nicknames, Past Relationship(s), Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-11-26 19:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johns_Farthings/pseuds/Johns_Farthings
Summary: 'Arabella knew as soon as she had an inkling that Jonathan would propose – and a greater one that she would not mind, if only he would find himself something to do – that she would be Mrs Strange, come what may.'Emma gets cross, and Arabella and Segundus talk about the past.





	1. Part One

When post is delivered at Ivy Cottage, it is collected by whoever is closest to the door. This is because they do not keep a regular maid or footman who might ask inconvenient questions, so there is rarely anyone else to do it. It usually Arabella who answers the door, though – Childermass and Segundus are often gone before the post is delivered, and Emma tends to be a late-riser, or at least a late-dresser. Most of the letters that come are for her anyway. Segundus’s are delivered directly to Starecross Hall, and Childermass’s will turn up all over the country. Emma – who by rights should receive the most correspondence, as all fine ladies do – rarely has any, being an only child with a mother long-passed and not on good terms with the rest of the world. Today, however, there is a letter addressed for her and Arabella dutifully sets it to one side. She flicks through her own papers, settles on one from Flora and takes it through to the living room to read it in the better light.

It’s only when she hears an explosion of noise from the hallway that she remembers, and then Emma is in the front room, her hair still wild and unbrushed from the night and her round face sharp with anger.

‘Look at this,’ she declares, throwing the letter down on the sopha. ‘Do you know who this is addressed to? Lady Walter Pole. Lady _Walter _Pole.’

‘It is just a formality, Emma.’

Most of the letters that Emma receives are formalities. Sir Walter writes, sometimes. He is always courteous, distant, and faintly embarrassed. Emma refuses to write back, but Arabella will pen a response to thank him for his interest and assure him that they are quite well. It is best to be polite, and let him think that he has done his duty by enquiring after his wife’s health. The last thing they need is anyone getting concerned. 

‘I do not care if it is a formality.’ Emma paces around the room. ‘I’m sick of it. Lady Pole has brought me nothing but trouble. I thought the world would understand that by now!’

‘Emma…’

‘No!’ Emma shakes her head. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

Arabella lets the front door bang before picking up the discarded letter and moving it somewhere sensible. The weather is too chilly for her to consider a walk herself, and Emma does not seem to want company, so she picks up her sewing and takes it to the window. She is usually a neat sewer – she has patience, which helps – but today her thoughts are distracted, and she pricks her finger. A speck of blood falls on the white embroidery. She sighs, sucks her finger until the bleeding slows, and then goes to fetch some dark thread to cover the stain. She keeps her sewing box tucked on one of the many bookshelves, where she can reach is easily. It is an old box, given to her by Jonathan soon after they had been married, but some of the things inside it are older than that – why throw away good thread, even if she does not use the colour often?

She reaches for a deep, raven black cotton that she had bought before she left Venice because it reminded her of Jonathan’s hair. Perhaps Emma does not wish to be Lady Pole, but Arabella will always be Mrs Strange. Practically, she must, the legal issues being what they are, but even if she was given the opportunity, she wouldn’t be Miss Woodhope again. Certainly, she will not be Mrs Segundus. Even if it had been possible, it is not a good idea.

_I cannot marry you_, she had said to him when the idea first came up, and Segundus had nodded and understood. Despite the mess Jonathan had left things in, Arabella has an income, and if she marries, it will not be hers any longer. Frustrating though it is, that is the way of the world. It is not that Segundus is untrustworthy – she can think of few people less so – but it is too complicated.

Money aside, Arabella knew as soon as she had an inkling that Jonathan would propose – and a greater one that she would not mind, if only he would find himself something to do – that she would be Mrs Strange, come what may.

She loves Emma – loves her with the same deep affection she had Jonathan, loves her fierce temper, her laugh and her wicked sense of humour, the delight she takes in learning bad words from Childermass and the wildness of her hair when she has been out on her walks, the fact that she gets up every morning, no matter how difficult the night has been, sets her chin and carries on with her day. She will always love Emma. But she loved Jonathan too. As she can never be Mrs Wintertowne, then she must be Mrs Strange. It is a piece of him that she carries, like few things of his she has kept. There weren’t many, after the disappearance of Ashfair and the house in London. Some letters, books and drawings, a ring which she keeps with her own wedding band in a box under the bed and takes out every now and then.

She hopes that Emma understands. They don’t talk about Jonathan often. He’s tied up with Norrell, and Arabella doesn’t want to pain her. She hates that Emma tosses and turns and night, the way she flinches at the sound of music.

But she does miss him, sometimes. She can’t help it.

Her thoughts are becoming gloomy, so when Segundus comes from Starecross at midday to pick up a book she insists that he sits and takes some lunch with her. Segundus eats with enthusiasm, but Arabella picks at her ham and, when she can’t stand the look of the white fat any longer, she pushes it aside and picks up a hard-boiled egg.

‘Jonathan loved these,’ she murmurs.

Segundus smiles, though his eyes are a little sad. His biography of Jonathan is what brought them together. It is honest and modest, perhaps a little kinder than the reality – just like Segundus – but it is true, at least.

She likes John Segundus, and she would not have made an arrangement like they have with anyone else. He is a good man, and a good friend. A little timid, perhaps, but sensible, quiet and hard-working. Emma likes him too, despite their strange past. He was kind to her, when few people were.

Childermass is…something different. She had been uncertain of him at first. But he has a wry sense of humour which, once one gets used to it, is hard to dislike. And he is kind too, in his own ways. That is what Emma needs - a little kindness. Arabella needs it herself, sometimes. 

‘The first time we met, at Starecross, you offered me an egg.’ Segundus smiles. ‘You said that Mr Strange would eat all of them if I did not take it.’

Arabella looks down at the brown egg in her hand. Jonathan could get the shell off in almost one piece. He always had steady hands, at least before the war.

‘I had forgotten.’ She remembers now, though – the creeping vines, the sensation of a place that had been empty for years and yet…not. 

Segundus sits forward on his chair. ‘Something is bothering you.’

She sighs. ‘Emma is angry. Not at me,’ she adds quickly, as Segundus raises his eyebrows. ‘A letter came today, addressed to Lady _Walter_ Pole.’

‘Ah.’ Segundus keeps on the edge of his chair. ‘What did it say?’

‘I am not sure. I did not look, and I do not think it matters.’

‘Where is she?’

Arabella pinches the egg until the shell cracks, and starts to peel the shards away. ‘Walking.’

Segundus sighs. ‘There is nothing to be done about it. She has been Lady Pole for a long time and the world is what it is. I will never call her that, though, and neither will John.’

‘Thank you. But…it is not only that.’

‘What, then?’

‘I will always be Mrs Strange. No matter that he was a magician, no matter how much I love Emma. I cannot marry her, and I cannot change that I was once married. If she gets so angry about something like this, I cannot help but think that I must make her angry too.’

Segundus pauses for a moment. He picks up his fork, turns it over, and puts it down again. ‘She would tell you if it bothered her, would she not?’

Arabella blinks. There is truth in that. Having endured so many years unable to speak what was on her mind, Emma sees no need to hold back from…well, anything.

‘And she has always known you were married to Mr Strange. You were married when you met her. I am sure that she knows you must think about him sometimes.’ He offers her a half-smile. ‘I miss Mr Strange too – though I know that it is not the same, but I think it is not wrong to do so. He was a good man. And a great magician.’

‘Sometimes, I wish he had not been. It was magic that took him from me.’ She bites her lip. She’s gone through this before, a hundred times. ‘But he made his own choices. He would not want me to be unhappy, or lonely. And...I love Emma.'

‘And I should think you would do so no matter what she was called?’

‘Yes, but-’

‘I am certain that she is the same. A rose by any other name…’ Segundus goes pink. ‘Well, you understand.’

‘Would you change your name, if you could?’

‘My name has always been my own – that is the way of things with men and women and marriages.’ He shrugs. ‘Besides – I could hardly take John’s name, or we would be called exactly the same thing, and _that_ would be terribly confusing.’

Arabella laughs.

* * *

‘I’m sorry,’ is the first thing Emma says when she gets back, her hair windswept and cheeks pink. ‘I just…needed to get out. I’m sorry that I snapped.’

She kisses Arabella, first on the cheek, then on the lips, her blown hair coming down like a curtain, soft and wild. Arabella kisses her back and tells her that she loves her by any name, and Emma smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I have done Arabella justice - there is another short piece to come on the topic of names and nicknames soon.


	2. Part Two

There are many names, between the four of them. Needs must, with two Johns in the house.

_John-dear_, Arabella will say, when she wants Segundus and wishes to distinguish between the two of them. It is something she has picked up in Yorkshire – chicken, duck, dear – and helps present a married face to the word, though it makes Segundus blush.

Childermass goes by his surname, more often than not. ‘It is a name I chose,’ he says one winter evening when the topic comes up. ‘But it has been mine for so long that I sometimes forget that it was not the one I was born with.’

Childermas, he tells them, is the Feast of Holy Innocents, that marks King Herod’s massacre. ‘That is not why I chose it,’ he says, when Arabella looks shocked. ‘It was the closest day of note to my birthday, unless I wanted to call myself John Newyear.’

Emma laughs. ‘I can see John Newyear. It suits a magician.’

‘Not this magician.’ Segundus puts a hand on Childermass’s knee, squeezes. ‘It is not subtle enough for him. He likes to be mysterious.’

Childermass looks as close to embarrassed as is possible for him. Though Emma asks him, he never tells them what name he was born with.

Emma calls Arabella _Bell_, because it is short and sweet and just as pretty, she says, as the person it belongs to. Segundus continues to call Arabella Mrs Strange for weeks, until she convinces him that he must at least call her by her first name, or someone will be sure to notice. The village has taken to referring to her as Miss Segundus, an uneasy compromise considering her unmarried state, but she is getting used to it. Her letters come in a variety of names, depending on the sender – Miss Woodhope, Mrs Strange, Mrs Segundus. It makes her smile.

Childermass still addresses Arabella as Mrs Strange, which is all well and good, but Emma is more difficult. She refuses to be called Pole, and her first name is too familiar. In the end, he settles on Miss Wintertowne, which she does not seem to mind. Arabella calls her Emma – there is not much of it to shorten, and besides, she believes in calling things by their proper name.

There are other names, of course, that they must use. ‘My friend,’ Arabella will say when she is walking with Emma, and finds they must introduce themselves – a woefully inadequate word, but safe.

‘My associate,’ Segundus says when he travels somewhere with Childermass, or ‘my colleague.’ And whoever they are speaking to nods and is none the wiser.

At home, he calls Childermass John. It is a very fine name, after all.

Childermass has other names for Segundus, though he never lets anyone else hear them, not even Emma and Arabella. _Love_, is what he uses most often, pulling the ‘u’ sound into a low hum. It is not a frill, a delicacy – Childermass does not use words frivolously, and he does not speak if he does not intend to say something he means. It is a pure and blunt truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably all from this series for a little bit. I have more ideas, but I’m working on a longer JSMN piece at the moment and I’d like to focus on that if I have time (which I never seem to do!).


End file.
